Two hundred yards. One hundred. Fifty.The Sea Siren was now within boarding distance. But the appearance of the strange boy had cast an eerie silence across the sea. The sailors stood dumbfounded, forgetting their duties.
A thunderous bang snapped them out of their trance.They turned to see Hayreddin aiming a silver-inlaid flintlock pistol at the deck of the Pearl. Smoke still curled from the muzzle. Nick had dodged behind his broad scythe, avoiding a fatal hit, but a lock of his hair was singed by the scattered shot.
The bullet hadn't struck home, but it had served its purpose.Blowing away the smoke at the barrel, Hayreddin's calm voice rang through the fog like a cathedral bell:"See? He fears bullets. He is no demon."
With a rustle, the false Venetian flag was lowered on the Sea Siren, replaced by a black banner.
No skulls. No cutlasses. He had never stooped to cheap threats.Only one emblem stood on the black flag—a white hourglass.
Its meaning was simple:The patience of the Red Lion is limited. Surrender now, or your life will drain away like sand.
At the sight of that infamous Mediterranean flag, the pirates snapped back into action. Those with muskets lit their fuses, and with a chorus of booms, lead shot and iron pellets rained down on Nick.
"Tch, not bad..."Nick slipped behind the mainmast, splinters flying behind him, the pungent scent of saltpeter stinging his eyes.The first volley had taken out many pirates on the Sea Wolf, but this era's firearms were crude flintlocks—slow to reload and unreliable. Within moments, the guns fell silent, having spent their precious first shots.
Nick waited a few seconds, then poked out a ragged shirt using his scythe.Bang! A shot tore straight through it.
Same red-haired man again.
Nick clicked his tongue and pocketed the mirror he had used for peeking. Even in this thick fog, the shooter's aim was deadly—truly skilled.
With both sides out of bullets, the ships crashed together. Iron grappling hooks with rope and spikes thudded onto decks.The time for blades had returned.
Alrud led the charge, climbing up the ropes onto the Pearl, cutting down two foes at the rail and clearing a path.Cautious of hidden enemies, he didn't rush. As more pirates poured onto the deck, the tide began to turn in their favor—yet there was no sign of the boy.
Had he vanished back into the sea?
"Sea monster! Come fight me! I am Alrud Anfelrico, charge captain of the Red Lion!!"
"Tch, what are you, a knight? Why the grand intro?"A shadow emerged from a pile of debris, casually dropping two enemies with his scythe.
Nick's expression was blank as he flicked blood off his blade.A boyish face under a gray headwrap, rough linen shirt, and sailor trousers tucked to his knees—nothing remarkable. But his skills made it impossible to mistake him for an ordinary teen.
"Nick. No surname."
No more words. As soon as the name was spoken, the massive scythe swept up toward Alrud.
Alrud's heart skipped. One second the boy was five meters away, the next his hollow dark eyes were inches from his face. So fast!Alrud crossed his blades just in time.He had seen Hank split in half, man and blade alike.He knew—this small boy wielded terrifying strength.
True enough, Nick held the scythe by the shaft's end, swinging with centrifugal force. Even a third of his power hit like a full-grown man's.With a dull clang, Alrud's muscled arms barely held the strike.
Nick didn't relent. As he landed, he twisted, scythe sliding along Alrud's blade toward his fingers.Alrud reacted instantly, releasing one blade and countering with the other.Clang!The black shaft blocked it.
"Give up..."Nick's voice was soft, like a sea siren luring sailors into the deep.
"What did you say!?"Alrud roared. "You're mocking me!?"
"No, you're skilled..." Nick shook his head. "But it doesn't matter. I heard your voice."
"What voice?"
"…The sound of your death."
Alrud had lost before. But never had he been looked down on like this.Rage, fear, confusion—he charged through them all.
"If you're so sure—then take my head!"
Nick didn't answer.He twisted his wrists and unleashed Thunder of the Storm God, the move that killed Hank.
"You think I'll fall for the same trick!?"
Most would flinch from such a massive weapon, but Alrud ducked in close.He knew the flaw of long weapons—up close, they were clumsy.
But—
Snap.
The black scythe split in midair, transforming into twin blades.His advantage was gone.
One half swept away his strike.The other carved through his neck.
As his head flew, Alrud finally heard Nick's explanation:
"I heard the moment your life ended."
Nick wiped blood from his face.The battle on the Pearl looked grim—Red Lion's men were not only well-armed, but unshaken by their captain's death.
They were regrouping.
Nick wasn't surprised. Red Lion's crew was no rabble.
But he knew his limits.No matter how he trained, his body had a ceiling. He was already tiring.
He hesitated—then decided.
Take down the commander. The rest would crumble.
With fluid grace, he dashed up a slanted rope, bounding like a circus acrobat.In moments, he'd reached the rail.
"He's coming for the Sea Siren!"
"Block him!"
"No way—I ain't dying like Hank and Alrud!"
Despite their shouts, no one moved.The boy had become myth—a ghost wielding death.
Nick spotted pirates ready to cut the boarding rope.No way to jump the distance—not without wings.
"Tch..." He frowned.Why couldn't anything be simple?
With a few quiet clicks, the scythe split again—this time into six segments.A chain emerged from its hollow core.
The two-meter scythe became a five-meter whip-blade.
He spun it once, then lashed it out.The blade hooked the Sea Siren's rail.Nick swung himself over in a clean arc.
Ten out of ten.
"W-What the hell is that weapon?!"
The pirates were stunned speechless.
Nick landed and spun the whip-scythe, clearing a five-meter space around him.He was the eye of a storm.
All this time, his eyes never left the red-haired man.
As dawn lit the sea, everything became clear.
Nick had never seen a man like him.
Tall—around six-foot-three—with a lean, agile build like a jungle cat.Though operating in Muslim waters, Hayreddin was unmistakably Greek.Strong features, bronze skin, half-open shirt.He looked like a sculpture come to life.
His fiery red hair blazed like the morning sky, yet his eyes were ice-blue—piercing, merciless.
Half sea, half flame.
Tch. A beauty.
Nick made his judgment.But it wasn't the man's looks that captivated him—it was the gleaming gear.
A bandolier of six silver-handled pistols.A thick Damascus steel scimitar with a ruby the size of a dove egg.A captain's treasure trove.
Nick licked his lips.Each pistol could buy a house.This guy was loaded.
He shook it off. Now wasn't the time.He remembered—Hayreddin had only fired twice. Then stopped.Why?
Nick didn't know.But he wasn't one to overthink.If he could beat him, he'd take the loot. If not—whatever.
He sprang into action.
"Hey," Hayreddin said lazily.
"What?" Nick snapped.
"How old are you?"
"…Sixteen."
"How long have you been at this?"
"Two days."
"Mm. You came through Béjaïa Port? Didn't consider joining me? I just held a big recruitment event in Algiers."
That struck a nerve. Nick's face puffed slightly.
"I went. Your recruiter turned me down."
Hayreddin sighed. "Hank's paid for his mistake."
"Enough talk…" Nick was irritated. He hated talking during a fight.It dulled his blade.
He couldn't delay.
Nick split his scythe into twin blades and lunged like a panther.
Thunderstrike!
CLANG!
Hayreddin had stood idly, but in a flash, drew his scimitar and deflected the blow.
No—not deflected.He countered.
With monstrous strength, he reversed Nick's attack and hurled it back.
Nick's hands went numb. He nearly dropped the blade.But his body reacted—he slid down the shaft, twisted, and sent the second half slicing toward Hayreddin's flank.
It should've hit.But Hayreddin stepped in, caught the shaft with his gloved hand, and yanked Nick forward.
Then—bam! A crushing knee sent the boy flying.
Thud!
Nick landed hard, scythe in hand, chest heaving.That last kick... even with the shaft as buffer, had winded him.
Worse—he heard nothing.
No sound.
No snap of death.
That sound had always guided him—his mysterious gift.He'd always heard it before a kill.
Not this time.
Hayreddin didn't chase.He stood at the prow, the rising sun a golden halo behind him.
"You're fast and skilled. With more stamina, you might've had a chance," he said calmly.
No kidding.Nick wiped his palms, glancing at the weapons.This might all be for nothing...
Hayreddin called out:"Hey."
"What?"
"Turn around."
"Pft, you think I'll fall for th—WHA!?"
Nick glanced sideways—and saw it.
The Pearl had been retaken.The Sea Wolf was retreating at full sail, hundreds of yards away.
The ocean stretched vast and impassable.
"Looks like your friends ditched you~" Hayreddin teased.
Nick clenched his jaw, scanning for boats.
"…Wait. You can't swim?"
Nick's face turned pale.
Hayreddin beamed.This kid—such a contradiction of mystery and clarity—was priceless.
He wouldn't let him go.
"You killed two of my captains. Did you really think I'd let you walk?"
Nick braced for a fight.He was low on energy, and couldn't win in a brawl.
But then—Hayreddin smiled.
"Relax. My rule is simple: you kill the captain, you become the captain."
Nick stared.
"What did you say?"
"I said—you're mine now."
Nick blinked. His eyes sparkled.
"You paying?"
"Contract labor. Twenty gold coins a month. First pick of loot."
"Private cabin?"
"Single berth."
"Food?"
"All you can eat."
Each question made Nick more suspicious.He'd been burned before—tricked into slave labor, fed pig scraps.
He hesitated.
"…Good food?"
"The best."
Hayreddin reclined on his soft couch, polishing his scimitar.
This battle, the Sea Siren had won a true sea monster.
"Good food?"
He chuckled.
Yes.This deal was worth every coin.